Musings at Twilight
by Savoir Faire
Summary: Written quite a long time ago, during my HP slash formative years: One lazy afternoon, Draco reflects on love, circles, and Harry’s eyes. Rated T for slash content [HPxDM]. Dedicated to all slash authors.


**Title: **Musings at Twilight

**Author: **Savoir Faire

**Summary: **One lazy afternoon, Draco reflects on love, circles, and Harry's eyes.

**Warning: **slash HPxDM, and as one review told me: a bit boring

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, people would kiss _my _feet, not JK Rowling's.

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The distant horizon, embedded with streaks of purple and pink was as beautiful and breathtaking as it always had been. The air was light and cool, and the soft zephyrs that blew gently carried the singsong voices of the homeward bound seagulls in the distance, signifying the end of another day. Grass and leaves, as lush and green as the forest, pranced about in the wind, biding the sun farewell as it slowly disappeared into its watery domicile. Yes, another day was at an end.

Calmly he gazed at the sky, searching the vastness for the emblem of evening. A sigh escaped his lips after moments of probing. The round silver moon was still nowhere to be found.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Appreciative eyes met green, and slowly, shyly, an almost unnoticeable smile formed on his lips. Moments flew and he finally, though reluctantly, looked away, moving a little as he did to accommodate the new comer.

The welcoming gesture did not go unnoticed by his new companion, and he turned away quietly in hopes that his flushed face would not be seen as robes brushed lightly against his skin. But alluringly sweet, the subtle scent of vanilla courted his senses, easily lulling his eyes shut and his lungs to pull in some more of the tasteful air. Pictures of emerald spheres—eyes—filled his mind, and he leaned back against the tree, bracing himself and willing his heart to speculate on something else.

But he could not help himself.

"Yes, they are beautiful." And he meant the eyes, because he knew nothing could ever hope to compare with them.

They sat on in silence, watching and waiting as the lazy afternoon rolled away, falling into a pit to be soon replaced by the pleasant energy of dusk and evening. The last of the sun's being slowly slipped, dipping itself further down into the dark abyss that was the ocean to rest its flamboyant soul.

As these things ever so slowly took place, he could not stop himself from watching the subtle hues of early evening paint and toy with his companion's features. They were a great complement to the boy's breathtakingly lightly roasted complexion, but even the colours that signified the oneness of day and night could not contend with the beauty that they tainted.

It was then at this moment that a thought had crossed his mind. To be able to behold such a beauteous sight was a true gift—how long exactly had he been endowed with such a pleasure?

It seemed so long ago, when he had first received such a blessing. He could remember standing somewhere drenched and torn by rain; remember himself giving into unconsciousness as a fever invaded his system. That night felt like a decade ago—the moments were vague. But there was one thing that he could remember very well…something that would last for a million lifetimes. It was the feeling of just being there—drowning and breathing—awake and asleep at the same time. Just being there, reveling in the warmth of Harry's embrace and freely tracing his features with coy but highly awed and eager eyes.

And ever since then he had fallen in love with him again and again, each day his heart pounding with a feeling that surpassed that of the day before.

"Harry?"

Silence, then, "Hmm?"

"If you were to carve my name on a tree, would you also put a heart around it?"

It was a silly and a somewhat childish question, but no one could really blame his mind for even thinking like that. Never in his life had he felt much emotion and feeling before, and being a new comer to such a wonderful world made him wonder and speculate on the things that other people did. He had seen a lot of Slytherins draw hearts around their significant other's name, and even the perfect prefect of Gryffindor, Granger, who was the most practical person he'd ever known aside from his mother, drew one around hers and Weasley's.

There was a long quiet, and it made him shift uncomfortably. A blush gradually came across his cheeks as he began to feel embarrassed at the absurdity of his inquiry. Suddenly more thoughts and feelings gushed through him as he continued to listen to the long, contemplative silence.

"Do you love me, Harry?"

It wasn't as if he doubted the wizard, but he could not help but feel a little worried at what the other might say—so, was he really doubting him? Quietly but quickly, he drew in a deep breath as he gathered his knees to his chest in an embrace.

"With all that I am, Dray."

The sigh he released all too quickly made a small amused smile appear on his lover's face.

"Then," he quietly began again, "Would you?"

"Would I what?"

"Would you also put a heart around my name?"

"No…no, I wouldn't."

The sureness in his lover's voice made his heart break, but there was something in the way the other had said it that made him look up.

"Why—why wouldn't you?"

It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, and he could not help but stare at the face that flashed such a beam. Time seemed to fly and yet it seemed to stop—he really couldn't tell. All he knew that this was beauty in its greatest and purest form.

"I'd rather a circle, Dray."

He could not help but feel disappointed. Perhaps Harry didn't want to follow the tradition of drawing a heart. But didn't a heart around a name meant loving that person? Perhaps, Harry didn't really mean what he said; perhaps he didn't know that he was never really feeling anything at all. Or worse, perhaps he was just pretending…playing?

He looked out once again at the now darkened sky with a lost and uncertain look. Tears welled up in his eyes, and his heart felt crushed at the thought that had just embedded itself in him. What if Harry didn't really love him at all? A stray tear threatened to fall, and he quickly shut his eyes. It fell, but never went past his cheek.

The gentle thumb that had ever so gently wiped away his tear slowly held his chin in a firm but tender grasp. Still he kept his eyes shut. He didn't want to hear anything. He didn't want to hear any confession that was never heartfelt. He didn't want to hear sorry or other seemingly endearing nonsense.

But the tender and soft kiss that claimed his lips made his eyes flutter open, and he found himself gazing into eyes that had nothing in them but love.

"Because a heart could easily be broken, Draco Malfoy, but a circle never ends."

And to say that those eyes were simply breathtakingly green was an understatement. They were far more than that, for they held the meaning of life itself.

Fin.

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**Author's note:** This was once posted under the pen name Sagiri.


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